


Princess

by Aeslehx



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeslehx/pseuds/Aeslehx
Summary: There is still significant stigma around HIV and the people most affected are the vulnerable who cannot speak for themselves. Children worldwide can be helped if mothers get tested early and started on treatment in pregnancy. You can donate to UNAIDS at www.unaids.org/en/donate to help this cause.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Princess

The horse’s hooves kicked up a spray as we raced down the river bank, the beads of water refracting the scorching sun into glistening beams of colour. Princess’s arms were tight around my waist as we jostled along, keeping me in the saddle. “Just a little further”, she whispered in my ear, “we’ll get to the treasure cave”. I nodded grimly, and wound the gleaming white strands of the mane more tightly around my fingers. I trusted Princess, but the journey to the hidden catacombs was only the first of many dangers—the young boy had warned of thorns, crosses, and the undead men that would bar the way. Her posture suddenly tensed, and Princess measuredly released the arms that had been circled protectively around me. She reached into the saddle bags and pulled out her orange, no, green crossbow and nocked an arrow. I squinted into the distance; the glaring sun bounced off the dazzling river water, and it was a moment before I spotted the enemy. I twisted around in shock and caught a glimpse of Princess, her brows furrowed in concentration as she carefully took aim, using only her thighs to grip tightly onto the saddle. I tried to make myself useful the only way I knew how—ducking down out of the way. A light twang, then I could almost hear the arrow whistling as it made its journey before meeting its mark with a deafening—

BANG. Princess started behind me, too. Her mother’s eyes peered impassively at us, pools of immeasurably deep black. The light rattan divider that made for some privacy in the hut had been swept unceremoniously aside and lay folded on the beaten dirt floor. The morning sun had awoken and was streaming across the space; Princess should have started her day before it had shown its rosy fingers. She bowed her head, nestling into my neck, her dark curls falling across her face. “Where is your hijab? Get up now.” The quietly spoken Arabic words were a whip across Princess’s back; she scrambled out of bed, pulling me with her. I waited patiently as she got dressed, tugging on an old jalabiya that had been handed down. Her head scarf she took special care to wind carefully around her neck, brushing back any stray strands and tucking it under the slightly frayed cloth. The rest of the hut was already empty—the dark space was cool and quiet, the only rustle was the sound of Princess’s bare feet as she darted across the floor.

“Indung?” Princess called as she stepped out from under the archway that led into her home. Her mother was busy pulling cotton from its stem, a basket of the fibres already half-filled beside her. She looked up, and glanced across to Ameen, whose face was just as unreadable. Princess’s mother squeezed her eyes shut and sighed, “today we go to the doctor.” Princess froze, her own breath caught between coming in and going out. She stood there, unmoving, only released from the headlights’ glare when her mother spoke again. “At midday. First you make the basket.” Princess nodded vaguely, and tread soundlessly back into the shadows of the hut. The grass roof had kept the interior cool overnight, but was losing the battle as the sun climbed into its full strength. Princess sat me down across from her, the pile of dried fronds between us. Her fingers ran down the stalks, selecting the longest ones and putting them aside. I gazed at her, trying to catch her eye, to give any encouragement I could. Princess’s eyes remained downcast as she worked, silently.

Eventually, the peace was disturbed as Auntie Samiah entered the hut, her swollen belly making her gait a duck’s waddle. Her long hair hung in tightly plaited dreads, and the beads she had worked in clicked as she sat heavily beside me. “Princess, I’m here to see you,” she prompted. Princess wavered briefly before manners won over her sullen stupor. “Hello, Auntie.” Her thick lips parted briefly to reveal a brilliant set of white teeth, and Aunt Samiah needed no other invitation to start talking again. She told Princess that it was all right, that she had prayed to the Lord, and that he would surely protect a sweet, young girl like Princess. Princess nodded along, her hands busy all the while, smoothing out the creases and laying the latticework that would later form the base of her basket. “You should come to church with me again sometime, Princess.” She turned to me. “I’m sure he would agree, too.” I stayed silent.

Princess’s hands flew over the leaves, weaving the first layer into the base, knotting and tying as she went. The quiet that had mended after Auntie Samiah left only meant that we could her Princess’s mother arguing with Ameen outside the hut in hushed voices. “It’s only a girl,” he said, “hardly worth the money.” Her mother’s voice trembled with an emotion Princess could not identify, “She could be stoned. For not being a virgin.” Ameen stayed silent. “Your idea for the cleansing ritual,” she hissed. Princess’s fingers abandoned the basket and pulled me behind her as she stalked out of the hut to face her mother and Ameen. “Let us go.” Princess’s infant half-sister gurgled in her nest of cloths as a response. In the hut, the half-woven fronds slowly unravelled.

The doctor was a large, pale man unlike any Princess or I had seen before. He spoke in a different tongue to Princess’s mother as we sat in the corner on a cushioned chair, waiting. I could feel Princess’s trepidation as she tugged on my ear nervously. Her mother finally turned to us, her face a roiling thundercloud. “You failed the test. It is H-I-V.” Princess began to wail, the unfamiliar letters breaking down a week of waiting and anticipating. The pale doctor came to her, his strange words making no impression on my distressed princess. He pulled me out of her arms and set me on the floor, holding her hand and trying to talk and making no sense at all. I watched as Princess’s mother took her, still sobbing, out of the room and left me alone with the doctor.

I sat silently in the corner, contemplating. Some time passed before a nurse finally noticed me still waiting for Princess to return. “Whose teddy bear is that?” she asked. “No idea. It’s dirty too, throw it away,” the pale doctor replied.

**Author's Note:**

> There is still significant stigma around HIV and the people most affected are the vulnerable who cannot speak for themselves. Children worldwide can be helped if mothers get tested early and started on treatment in pregnancy. You can donate to UNAIDS at www.unaids.org/en/donate to help this cause.


End file.
